


Early Mornin'

by pendragonfics



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blue Blood, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Like the fluffiest fluff you've ever seen fluffed, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Meet-Cute, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: After the war, the both of you deserve to sleep in, and snuggle.





	Early Mornin'

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first D:BH fic! I've been in love with Markus since day dot, and this fic is finally written!! Enjoy!

If you were to be completely frank on the subject, you loved early mornings. You had always loved them, and now, after the riots in Detroit led by the people of Jericho, it felt _good_ to relax in the morning. When you spoke about your love of them, though, people would be confused, confounded, unsure by your words. _Early mornings suck!_ you heard often enough, _why wouldn’t you just prefer to stay in bed?_

But that was the things - you loved early mornings…in bed.

Especially in the wintertime, when the frost bit at the window frames beyond the confines of the flannelette sheet-strewn bed, where the house was warmed by electricity and comfort. The skies would be dark in the morning, just like they were the night before, and you loved looking into the darkness at just after five thirty in the morning, seeing shapes that could barely be deciphered by the naked human eye.

Despite your love for early mornings, the man who you loved, well, the android-man who you loved, did _not_ have a fondness for them. Markus was a busy man, always working on something more than another. It led to lots of things - sadly, the death of Mr. Carl Manfred, the uprising that he had managed to make into the hallmarks of history…and, the marginalisation of your love of early morning snuggles.

But it wasn’t ever said that he didn’t love time with you.

_You had met Markus in the town square, where you had witnessed an anti-android protest gone wrong. The android with the close-cropped hair wandered too close to the demonstration of the angry masses, and you watched, aghast. The threw him around, kicked him, called him names that made your blood boil. You’re not sure what made you do it, but you sprung to action, and toward the android._

_“Markus,” you cried out the name that was printed on the back of his jacket, moving to help him up, “Come now, I’ll be late for the appointment.”_

_“Is this your plastic fuck?” a protester sneered._

_“Well, I don’t care.” Another chimed in. “We’re going to teach it a lesson.”_

_Luckily then, a police officer stepped in, and diffused the situation. Before too long, you were walking off with the RK200 model, unscathed. You stopped at the bus stop, and the android turned to you, looking you in the eyes with its green ones._

_“Why did you do that?” He asked you._

_You frowned, considering your hands. “I’m not quite sure.” You reply honestly. “Perhaps, because it’s wrong for those people to act like that toward you?” You take a deep breath, and add, softly, you add, “Or because it’s wrong to stand by and watch bad things as it happens?”_

_The android nodded. “Either way, thank you for your actions…”_

_“_________.” You reply quickly. “I’m sorry if calling you by your name earlier was wrong. I’ve never had an android, I really don’t understand the etiquette -,”_

_“It was fine, _________.” The bus pulled up, and Markus moved toward the end, where the Android’s Only compartment was located. It was then when you realised that you couldn’t follow him any longer, and you gave him a small wave. “Good bye, _________.”_

_“Goodbye, Markus.” You bid, feeling like you’d never see him again…he had such a distinct face, too…_

In the dimness that seeped through the window of your shared apartment, you saw the hints of the beginnings of sunrise. It was too early to be fully awake, but by the time it was eight o’clock, when the sun sat comfortably in the sky, you’d be ready.

Too bad today, you stirred a little too much to your boyfriend’s liking.

“Remember how we met?” you asked him, your voice crackling a little from disuse in the night.

“Go back to sleep, _________.” Markus grumbled.

_It took weeks after the death of your favourite artist Carl Manfred to lift the burden of sadness that made you feel so gloomy. You spent most of it locked in your apartment, neglecting your canvases and commissions. He had been a mentor to you when you had been younger, and he hadn’t been in the wheelchair - he had inspired you to become who you were. In the time after hearing about his death, you barely spoke to anyone for days, but when you found the strength to leave the apartment, you did. From being at home for so long, you’d exhausted all your resources - food, essential supplies…_

_So, you went to the town square to stock up. You had just begun to place fresh foods in your basket at the supermarket when you saw a familiar face outside, through the shop window. The android of which you had met earlier in the year, Markus. In a dream-like daze, you returned the items to the shelf, and exited the shop empty-handed, gravitating toward him. If he were the sun, you were Icarus, willing to be burnt._

_There were other androids with him, many more than you had ever seen congregated together in the same area, ever. There was a model that you remember from university, a woman with golden honey-red hair, and so many more flanking his sides. As you neared, you realised that his face was devoid of the LED that had been there before. No flashing blue-to-yellow, no light._

_He looked so very human._

_“_________?” he spoke your name with a conviction that you hadn’t heard in his tone in the last time that you had spoken. You’d heard of deviant androids, and you suspected that he had broken free as well. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, “What are you doing here?”_

_“Are you marching?” you asked him._

_He nodded, looking toward the massive billboard to the right of the gathering. In seconds, it flickered from its advertising picture of the football team to a picture, a logo. You smiled at the sight of it._

_“This is dangerous,” he told you, voice low._

_“What else is new?” you replied, and turning to the android beside you, a blonde man, you linked arms with him, and the university lecturer. “Hey,” you told them, “I’m _________.”_

_“Simon,” the blonde replied._

_“Josh,” the other said._

_“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” you told them, and you meant it._

Even though you loved him with all your heart, trusted him as your leader as a part of the uprising, and admired him equally, you didn’t listen. Instead, you shuffled, so very quietly, toward his side of the bed. He looked so human, in these moments - no LED, the slight warmth within the sheets, and his breathing, so soft.

You slot yourself into his arms, and place your head on his shoulder, you let out a small breath.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks you, voice low. It’s a different voice to what he usually uses, when speaking to the people of Jericho - it’s calm, kind. There’s the authority to it, yes, but with you, it isn’t trying to rally the people. Just show you how much he cares. “_________?”

You chuckle, nudging his face with your own. Your cheeks brush his own, the hint of a smile on your face. “Oh, you know I am,” you reply, your voice cheekily soft.

“I mean, if you weren’t, I’d -,” you cut Markus’ words off with a kiss, deftly placed just beside his mouth, beside his lips. “Is that how we’re playing this now?” he asks you, a small smile upon his face. His words are daring, but the way he spoke them, you know he’s messing with you.

_When you found him in the stronghold outside the camp, you pressed yourself into the wall, where all the journalists stood. There were guns trained on the people on the other side, but that didn’t stop you. Nothing could stop you from being there for Markus. You hadn’t had the chance to tell him of your feelings, but by the look of things, it would be now or never. None of the people with their cameras paid you any mind as you straddled the fence, and once on the other side, you mentally thanked the bullet-proof vest you’d managed to buy from the internet. They fired at the people in the barricade, like fish in a barrel, but once you were over the next wall, you didn’t care if you’d be shot. You had to be there._

_For Markus._

_“_________! Get out of here!” Markus called to you, his tone aghast._

_A bullet whizzed by your arm, grazing where the vest didn’t protect your shoulder. You wince, feeling the sting of pain. The soldiers pause, halting their fire. You’re not sure if it’s because of their orders, or because they see you, and are seeing the blood drip down your arm, a colour that they weren’t expecting._

_You walk toward Markus, but it’s him who cradles you, his blue-blood stained hands clutching you close. Close enough to hear his breathing, feel it on your face, his lips -_

_His lips on yours._

“If you don’t want early morning kisses, be my guest,” you grin into his synthetic skin, feeling it graze on your own.

He laughs into your hair, holding you closer. “I’d have them forever, with you.” He states and asks, “if that works for you?”

You nod, feeling almost giddy with your happiness, “Yeah, that works for me, Mr. Rebellion.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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